Brighter Than Sunshine
by Cynthia Salander
Summary: Love burns brighter than sunshine. Mondler. Standalone.


_A/N: This is a weird one-shot. Mondler, of course, but weird. I'll try to explain it, though._

_I was watching the movie 'A Lot Like Love' the other night and the soundtrack, sung by Aqualung, called 'Brighter than sunshine', is hands down the best song I've heard in awhile. This is a collection of vignettes if you will, in no particular chronological order, of a few Mondler moments. Standalone. _

_I have removed the lyrics since it's against the rules._

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Friends_.

**Brighter Than Sunshine**

**~.~1977~.~**

"Charles! I am warning you!"

Eight-year-old Chandler hugged his pillow tightly, as his mother's voice rose an octave. _This _was his nightmare, his daily nightmare. His parents' arguments never failed to reach his ears, even through the closed bedroom door.

"You try and behave like a mother first, and then you can comment on _my _parenting skills," his father retorted, the drunken slur in his voice quite evident.

His friend Kevin had told him that his parents never fought. At first, he'd thought Kevin was lying, but during one of his sleepovers, he found out that Kevin was telling the truth. Mr. and Mrs. Robinson always kissed before Mr. Robinson left for work. He had watched them in fascination as they both murmured 'I love you's with a little secret smile of their own.

He'd never once seen his parents say 'I love you' to each other. He frequently got a distracted 'love you, sweetie' from his mother, and sporadically, one from his father, but not once had it seemed like they meant it.

"Fuck you," his mother exhaled in a controlled hiss, just loud enough for him to hear through the closed door.

No, he didn't know what love was.

_~.~_

**~.~1996~.~**

This was not a hangover, Monica was sure of that. Definitely not a hangover. Just a sore head and a broken heart.

She opened her eyes and squinted at the bright sunlight that streamed through the window. She turned around to face the other side of the bed. Empty. _No Richard._

She pressed her fingers to her temple, willing the tears pricking at the back of her closed eyelids to stay where they were. She'd cried herself to sleep the previous night, and now, she was surprised that she still had tears to shed.

_Don't call me, _she'd told him, and he probably never will again.

Her body trembled, and her tears soaked the pillow beneath her cheek. She didn't try to stop her tears, she let them flow unchecked as she felt a grief like never before.

If she told her brother that she'd chosen having children over Richard, he'd say 'Oh, Mon, it's like 'Sophie's choice''. But what would he know about what she was going through?

This was one feeling that she never thought she'd experience.

_~.~_

**~.~1988~.~**

Chandler tried to glare at her from his place on the hospital bed, but the look of terrified innocence on her pretty face didn't allow him to.

Monica had ventured into the room after everyone else had left and she just stood there by his damaged foot, looking as though he'd bite her head off if she spoke.

"I am sorry," she whispered finally, clasping her palms together in a praying stance.

He nodded, wondering whether he should smile. _What's the matter with you? The woman just cut your toe off for crying out loud! Of course you shouldn't smile!_

_But she looks so scared. And pretty. So very pretty… Shut up, Bing._

"How do you feel?" she asked him, moving away from his foot and towards him. Her fingers brushed his that were on the side of the bed. She pulled her hand away quickly, her face turning a light shade of red.

"Not great, really," he shook his head as he answered her truthfully. How had he failed to notice that Ross Geller's sister was so pretty? He cut her off before as she opened her mouth to apologize again. "I know you're sorry."

She nodded, her eyes drifting south as she glanced at his maimed foot again. "How's your toe?" She realized a second too late that she should have phrased the question differently.

"He's still in your kitchen. Maybe you could ask him yourself?" He wasn't smiling, but the way his eyes crinkled made it appear as if he was. Her terrified expression returned. Something in his heart flipped over, and he found himself smiling at her to ease her discomfort. "It's OK, Monica. Many people lose their limbs, I am lucky that it was just a toe."

She smiled back tentatively, moving closer to him. "Actually, it's not your _whole_ toe. It's just the tip," she said meekly, her light smile remaining on her lips.

He tried to glare at her again, but a chuckle broke from him when she started to giggle. "You know, this is one conversation I never thought I'd be having," he laughed, but winced in pain a second later.

"Oh, god, are you alright?" she stopped smiling and asked him in concern. He met her eyes again, shrugging uncomfortably. "Right, stupid question," she smacked her head with her hand.

"Really, it's fine," he leaned in and patted her hand lightly. "Although, I should probably tell you that I kinda liked the tip. Now, I'd never have a nail on my pinky toe," he sighed, feigning sorrow.

"If you're trying to make me feel guilty, you're doing a wonderful job." She sat down on the bed gingerly, next to him, surprising him. "I know I've said this before, but I really am sorry," she told him softly, biting her bottom lip as she gazed at him.

He nodded, smiling as he gazed back. "Yeah, I think I can live without the tip."

The two teenagers, their faces mere inches apart, were completely captivated with each other. The movement of the eyes, the steady, rhythmic breathing, the warmth radiating from the other's skin, nothing went unnoticed.

"Monica! There you are!" Rachel's voice disrupted the moment. Monica got off the bed in a fraction of a second. Her own heartbeat thundering in her ears, she felt like they had been caught doing something more than just talking. "Your mom is looking for you," Rachel said, shooting a weird look at the twosome before she closed the door and left.

Monica stood still, watching the closed door for a couple of seconds before she turned towards Chandler again. "You know you're staying with us tonight, right?"

For some strange reason, the memory of him saying 'I don't wanna be stuck here with your fat sister' flitted through her mind. But the boy who was now vulnerable and in pain, looked nothing like the cocky guy that she'd encountered the previous year. He still looked cute, though. She'd give him _that._

"I figured," he smiled, wincing again as he shifted slightly.

She looked down at him sympathetically. "Do you need anything?"

"Some good sleep," he yawned, his eyes drifting shut.

"I'll get Ross to help you out of here," she nodded.

He opened his eyes, watching her as she leaned in towards him. Her warm breath caressed his skin as her lips brushed against his cheek, softly. He felt a strange, unfamiliar feeling of warmth in his heart when she pulled back and smiled at him.

She turned away from him and walked towards the door, opening it. She stopped abruptly and turned back to look at him again. "Oh, and Chandler?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Your hair looks better this way." Still smiling at him, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

He closed his eyes, grinning widely. Maybe it was in his destiny to get his toe cut off by Ross's little sister.

_~.~_

**~.~2001~.~**

Basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, the newlyweds snuggled closer to each other.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear, feeling her eyelashes flutter against his cheek.

"I know," she breathed contently, relishing the warmth of his skin and the tenderness of his embrace.

His fingers which were drawing abstract patterns on her lower back, began to draw distinct geometric figures and letters.

"Circle," she murmured, and felt him nod. "'I'?" She guessed when he began drawing something else.

"Yeah." He kissed her hair.

It took her a few seconds to figure out what he drew next. Tiny, little hearts and a 'U'.

She smiled, moving on top of him. "I love you, too."

Claiming her lips with his own in a searing kiss, he pulled her closer to him. And thus they began their lovemaking again.

They'd kissed a million times. They'd made love hundreds of times.

But she knew their love burned as bright as ever. Brighter _than _ever.

_~.~_

**~.~2000~.~**

He tried to stop the numbness from spreading to his core as he paid the cab fare and got off the cab.

It always rained in movies when a person went through heartbreaks. He found it ironic and scary that it was drizzling now. He was not ready to have his heart broken. Not by Monica. Never by Monica.

He pushed open the door to his building and climbed the stairs as fast as he could. His fingers tightly clutched the ring box in his pant pocket. His life depended on it. If she wasn't there when he opened the door, it would be his end.

"She's gone," Joey told him, his eyes showing sympathy.

He had been too late. It was now too late to stop the numbness from spreading. All the times she'd murmured 'I love you', he had never thought _she_ would be his end.

He opened the door to their apartment, feeling utterly unprepared to face a life without her. And there she stood, surrounded by a hundred candles, the yellow light casting a pale golden glow on her flawless skin.

"You wanted it to be a surprise," she said softly, her bright eyes shining with tears.

And his world was bright again.

She was his and his alone.

_~.~_

**~.~1997~.~**

"I think you're great. I think you're sweet, and you're smart," she smiled at him softly. "And I love you."

His whole heart warming at her words, he leaned forward and took her hands in his.

But just as quickly as it came over him, the moment collapsed when he heard her say, "But you'll always be the guy who peed on me."

He pulled his hands away from hers, as if it burned him. He stacked the cards on a pile and placed them face-down on the table and stood up to leave. He was no longer in the mood to play Gin. "I'll see you later." Nor was he in the mood to take hurt.

He knew he should have stopped. He knew he shouldn't have dragged it up to this point. But it had poked at his self-esteem, rather annoyingly, when she'd laughed at his offer to be her boyfriend.

No, he was _not_ falling for his best friend.

_You sure?_

_Shut up! I am sure!_

He smiled to himself wryly, as he remembered something else. _Why won't I be married when I am forty?_

This was friendship. Nothing more. It never could be anything more.

But she panicked as he turned around to leave. Had she hurt him?

"Chandler, wait!" She got off her chair and came up to him, her hands reaching to grasp his arms. "I really do love you," she said softly, her expression so very earnest in a way that her beautiful face looked even more so.

"I know, Mon," he nodded, smiling at her tenderly, his blue eyes conveying what he didn't even have to tell. "I love you, too."

_~.~_

**~.~1998~.~**

"Chandler?" she murmured sleepily, when she felt someone crawl into her bed and pull her into his arms. It could only be him.

"My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die," he whispered, tickling her lightly.

She giggled, pulling him on top of her. "Hey there, Westley."

He kissed her chin, smiling. "No, it's actually Inigo Montoya."

"Oh, but you're _my _Westley." She hooked her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "What took you so long?"

He brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. "_Your_ stupid brother and _my _stupid rooster. They were both up."

She wiggled her hand between them and fiddled with the top button of his shirt. "I could help you get rid of that rooster, if you want."

He chuckled. "No. I think Joey might go into clinical depression if something happens to our poultry." He slightly moved away from her and started to undo the buttons on her nightshirt. "You could help me with something else, though."

Undressing slowly, savoring the luxury of solitude that they've both been yearning for, for so long, she closed her eyes when he finally leaned in and kissed her.

They knew without a doubt that this was no longer a fling. It ceased to be one long time ago. With each nighttime tryst, it evolved into something more. Something more than what they could ever fathom.

Every time he whispered her name as they made love, he had to stop himself from saying what they both longed to say.

No, it was not a fling. But he'd stopped fighting the feeling of rightness that enveloped him whenever he was with her. He was no longer scared.

Maybe someday, she'd be _his _princess _bride._

_~.~_

**~.~2005~.~**

Handling two toddlers is difficult as it is, add an infant to the equation, and if only it wasn't the Bing family, it would have been a recipe for disaster.

But they handled it well, surprisingly well.

"The twins are asleep," he told his wife, closing their bedroom door. She briefly pried her eyes away from her baby nuzzling at her breast, and smiled up at him.

He climbed into the bed and kissed the side of her head, instinctively wrapping his arm around her. "This suits you," he whispered as he gazed down at one-month-old Daniel.

And they'd thought they would never get to name their child that.

"What?" she asked, still looking down at Daniel.

"Being a mother. It suits you well." He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. They grinned as their son stopped suckling and yawned slowly, allowing the unswallowed milk in his mouth to dribble out. Chandler wiped it off with his finger, before she laid the baby on her shoulder to burp him, patting his back.

As the rhythmic stroking of his tiny back lulled him, Daniel fell asleep on his mother's shoulder.

"Jack said 'dada' today," she spoke softly, not wanting to wake the infant.

Chandler grinned widely, almost smugly. "Oh, yeah?"

Monica chuckled on seeing the expression on her husband's face. Among all the indiscernible things that the twins said on a daily basis, Erica had been the first to refer to one of her parents, and that word had been 'ma!' It had bugged Chandler to no end that it hadn't been 'dada' or at least 'da'. That was probably why he was grinning like a Cheshire cat now, on knowing that his son had more affinity towards his paternal side, unlike his daughter.

She brought the baby back down to her lap and adjusted her nightdress. "Yeah, he was saying it all afternoon. It's a shame _you _didn't get to hear it."

"Maybe I'll hear it tomorrow." He shrugged. "Want some help with that?" He pointed at her nightdress, grinning suggestively.

"Yeah, right," she scoffed and pulled on her robe.

She began to lift Daniel again, but Chandler stopped her. "Here, let me." He carried the baby to the crib, gently lay him down on his back and covered him with the soft blue knitted blanket that Rachel had presented them. He leaned down and placed a loving kiss on his son's practically bald head, knowing in his heart that he would never tire of being a 'dada'.

He returned to bed, to see that his wife was looking up at him with warmth and love that somehow, mysteriously, seemed to grow between them with each passing day. He pulled the sheets over them and pulled her closer to him. He framed her face and kissed her softly.

When the sweet, lingering kiss turned into a seductive one, she pulled away from him, smiling. "You know we can't do this now, Chandler. Just two more weeks." She pecked his lips again, and laid her head on his chest. "Besides, we only have about two more hours of sleep before your son wakes up again."

"Hmm," he sighed, being content with just holding her, for now. He kissed her forehead and entwined his hand with hers, which lay on his abdomen. "Love you, Mon."

"Love you, too," she whispered back, her heart keeping time with his, her mind telling her that _this _was love, as they both drifted off to sleep in each others arms.

He now knew what love was. And he knew that it was brighter than the sunshine.

_Love burns brighter than sunshine._

**~.~.~**

**The End**

**~.~.~**

_A/N: I hope it wasn't too confusing :)_

_If you haven't heard the song before, I'd highly recommend that you do! _


End file.
